


Every Day Is Caturday

by headbuttingbears



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Character Turned Into A Cat, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headbuttingbears/pseuds/headbuttingbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Audrey, you're a cat." The cat stood up, braced herself with two paws on his knee, and meowed as loud as she could.</p><p>"Okay, just checking."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Day Is Caturday

**Author's Note:**

> The only reason this fic exists is because the_wanlorn bullied me into writing it. For that I thank her. But I don't thank her for the title, that's all on her.
> 
> Also worth noting: this takes place in some vague time before the season 1 finale.

Kimberly Steinke burst into tears. "I'm sorry, she doesn't know what she's doing!"

Nathan ignored her, staring at the pile of clothes where his partner had been standing. Kim's little girl was crouched down in front of it, poking through the pile. She lifted up Audrey's jacket and let out a squeal of delight.

"Kitty!" She pulled out a yellowish mass and squeezed the cat tightly to her chest, nuzzling it as it tried to escape.

Audrey was. Nathan licked his lips, brain struggling to catch up. Audrey was a cat? Really? "Parker?"

The cat struggled out of the girl's arms, dropped to the ground and ran to him, looking distinctly freaked out. He knelt, looked closely at it. Her. The cat. "Parker? Is that-- Are you--" The cat responded with a series of meows, conversational. He reached out a hand to pat her, then paused.

"Audrey, you're a cat." The cat stood up, braced herself with two paws on his knee, and meowed as loud as she could.

"Okay, just checking." He patted her gently on the head, smoothing back her ruffled fur.

  


  


The Chief took it pretty much in stride. Nathan did not.

"Well, worrying about it's not going to fix anything. Look at those football players, they got better."

"Chief, they spent five days as rhinos. Animal Control used up all their tranquilizers getting them off the field."

"Then be grateful that Audrey's not so big." The Chief heaved a sigh and tapped a finger on his pack of cigarettes, watching as Audrey tried to grab a pen with her paws. She'd been at it for five minutes, since Nathan had set her down on the Chief's desk and endeavoured to use his inside voice to explain matters.

Garland picked up the pen, tapped her lightly on the nose with it, then held it up with a smile as she reached for it. Nathan couldn't feel it, but he suspected his eyelid was twitching.

"Chief," he said flatly. "That's my partner."

Garland looked over at him as the cat -- Audrey -- jumped playfully after the pen. "Nathan, I don't know if you've realized this yet, but your partner's a cat. Deal with it."

Nathan decided to deal with it by not crying.

  


  


"So... You're okay?"

Audrey meowed twice. They'd worked out a system pretty easily -- one meow for no, two for yes -- but Nathan was already sick of the one-sided conversation.

He slumped down in his desk chair. "Seriously? You're finally affected by the Troubles and you get turned into a cat. And you're just... Fine with this?"

A pause. Audrey tilted her head, whiskers twitching. A tentative meow. Sort of fine, Nathan figured. Trust Audrey to be _sort of fine_ being a cat.

  


  


Julia had neither answers nor explanations.

"Couple of hours, couple of days, I don't know. There's no pattern to how long it lasts," she said, picking Audrey up from the scale and setting her down on the table. "For now you're a cat, and about as normal a cat as I can tell," this directed to Audrey. "Mind if I pet you?" One meow.

"That's a no," Nathan interpreted.

Julia smiled down at Audrey as she stroked a hand down her back. "I can give you the number of a vet, just in case, but I don't think there'll be any problems. Don Brubaker spent two weeks as a giraffe and all he developed was a fondness for leafy greens."

Nathan looked down at Audrey, sprawled over the examination table, eyes closed as Julia scratched under her chin. Two weeks?

"She'll be fine, Nathan." He nodded, tried not to wince as Audrey launched into a series of meows that he imagined were meant to sound reassuring.

  


  


It was still early on in the day, and work couldn't just stop because your partner was suddenly 10 pounds and feline. The Steinke case was put on the backburner -- "What are we supposed to do, lock up a 6-year-old? For what, trying to restock the petting zoo?" -- and things rolled on.

Afternoon found them at Rosemary's; she'd called in a report of kids karate-chopping the fence around the backyard, and they'd checked it out. Audrey had prowled up, down, and on the fence, stepping daintily from post to post as Nathan dutifully took down a report from the flustered shopkeeper.

Back through the store, Audrey trotted along beside him, keeping up a constant stream of chatter that he found simultaneously adorable, heart-breaking, and annoying. Then suddenly she froze, head turning this way and that, then rushed the door, pawing at it.

"I'd ask you what your hurry is, but--" And as soon as Nathan had the door cracked she was gone, slinky body whipping around it to scamper down the street.

"Audrey!" The bells on the door chimed loudly as he let the door drop to scramble after her, ignoring the strange looks people gave him. She was small, but damn she was fast, and he cursed her four furry legs as he chased after her. His stomach gave a lurch when she cut across the street, a mud-spattered truck thundering towards her.

"Audrey!" he yelled, fists clenched, but she was already gone by the time he got across the street, and he whirled dramatically to look up and down the thoroughfare before spotting a familiar shape further up the street.

Vince had his hands under her armpits -- armpits? -- to hold her up to eye level as she chattered on.

"Well, I don't know if that was such a good idea, Audrey," Dave said, leaning on the handlebars of the bike, trying for stern. "Look what you did to poor Officer Wuornos here," and they all turned towards Nathan as he jogged up.

"Parker, if you ever do that again, I swear to god I'll-- Did you just roll your eyes at me?" They all looked carefully at Audrey, who tilted her head and stared at Nathan pointedly. His mouth closed with a click he heard but didn't feel; he shook his head.

"Fine. I get it, you're still a person, not a dumb cat, whatever." He waved a hand dismissively, ignoring the brothers' expressions and Audrey's ear twitch. "You don't have to tell me twice. Just." He paused, reached out a hand tentatively. "A little warning next time?"

She seemed to consider it, then batted a paw out to brush softly against his palm.

"Looks like a deal to me!" Dave said cheerfully.

Audrey squirmed a little, and Vince set her down on the sidewalk, smiling. "I've always wanted to do some cat studies, but never found any cooperative subjects. Would you...?"

Audrey's tail waved back and forth for a moment, like a metronome, before she sat primly and gave him two meows and something strongly resembling a smile.

"That's a yes," Nathan said, silently relieved at the idea of someone else keeping an eye on Audrey. Guilt followed soon after.

"Wonderful! I've always liked cats, you know," Vince said. "Dave prefers dogs," he told her in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Hey! I like cats just fine," Dave said, miffed. "Just... Have allergies. That's all." He fastened his helmet back on, turning to Nathan. "Don't you worry, we'll make sure she doesn't get into the catnip."

  


  


Nathan didn't see her before breakfast, but he figured she was off on official cat business and didn't worry. Audrey had really taken the whole cat thing in stride -- better than he would've -- and seemed hellbent on increasing her knowledge of the town. Or chasing mice, whatever. The point was that she'd always been independent, and being a cat wasn't holding her back now. She didn't need a catsitter.

Around noon he called the Teagues, figuring if anyone had seen her in town it would've been them.

"Not since yesterday afternoon," Dave said. Vince said something in the background, voice not quite carrying over the phone, and Dave held the phone away for a brief conversation. "Apparently Vince saw her this morning around the dock, maybe check there?"

So down he went after work, mostly successful in keeping his anxiety under control. He most definitely was not entertaining ideas of Audrey's small, furry body trapped under a crate, meowing helplessly. No sir.

"Saw her over by Duke's," Leo said, wiping a dirty hand over his forehead. "Maybe around... Ten? Ten-ish?"

Nathan nodded his thanks and picked up his pace.

Duke's boat showed signs of life, but no Duke and no Audrey to be seen. An ugly-ass plastic lawn chair had been pulled out, with a blanket thrown over it and a discarded fishing rod lying on top. The blanket had cat hair on it, and Nathan rummaged around hopefully, but there was nothing else to be found. He folded his arms and grumped to himself, wondering how long he should hang around for, if he could get away with putting an APB on Duke by claiming he'd cat-napped Audrey.

The slow clomp of feet on the dock caught his attention, and he turned. Duke, with a huge bag of potato chips in one hand, was cheerfully making his way back to the boat. In his other hand --

"Audrey?" Nathan started forward, worry creasing his brow.

"No worries, man. Just had a little too much catnip." Duke looked down at her, mellow smile spreading over his face. Audrey was cradled securely in his arm, like a baby, tail flicking occasionally.

"Catnip?"

Duke looked up at Nathan's tone. "It's medicinal."

  


  


Another long shift, another long week, and Nathan drove home slowly at the end of it, one hand on the wheel. It wasn't quite evening yet, but it was darker than usual, what with the breeze picking up and the clouds threatening.

He parked, grabbed the six-pack of beer he'd picked up after work, and walked around the truck to the house, came to a halt before setting foot on the porch.

"Haven't seen you in a while," he said to Audrey. It came out a little more accusingly than he'd expected, and he covered by taking the steps two at a time, stepping over her. She'd been lying across the top step, and now she picked herself up lazily, meowing as she wove around his legs as he tried to get the door open. She darted in once it was cracked and he rolled his eyes at her impatience.

"Nice to see you too," he muttered, tossing his keys to land on the kitchen counter as he toed off his shoes. Audrey jumped after his shoelaces, scrambling about playfully as he set the six-pack on the counter, rubbed a hand over his face as he watched her and sighed.

"Here, this is better." He dug out a receipt from his pocket, crumpled it loudly into a ball that had her immediate attention, ears twitching around at the sound. She was after it like a shot when he tossed it down the hallway, thudding and skidding after it, sounding far heavier than she really was on the slippery wood floor. Her graceless enthusiasm startled a laugh out of him, and he caught himself watching her, shook his head and sighed again as he went upstairs to change.

  


Nathan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, poking idly at his face, assessing the day's damage. For once the only injury he had was too obvious for him to miss. He'd changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, checked himself over for cuts or scrapes while Audrey banged around downstairs, doing what sounded like a stampede's worth of damage to the house before coming upstairs to find him.

"It's really not that bad," he said. He turned to look down at Audrey, who'd perched on the toilet seat, presumably to see him better. "Might end up with quite a shiner, but that's all. Could've been worse." He looked back to the mirror as she licked a paw in that arch way cats did when they thought you were full of it.

The sound of her jumping down from the toilet was a muffled thump he barely heard, but as he carefully touched two fingers to his bruised cheekbone he felt her small body lean against his legs. He looked down into her big blue eyes as she meowed a question up at him. She looked worried -- he imagined she did, anyway.

"Yes, I iced it."

More meows as she looped around and between his legs, tail lashing his shins. It sounded like she was grumbling.

"Fine, I'll do it again in a bit. After dinner. Alright?"

She looked back up at him, tail wrapped around his leg, then walked away with a series of slightly more upbeat-sounding meows.

  


He put most of the beer in the fridge as the pizza reheated in the microwave, waving a can at Audrey before he put it in the freezer. "Don't let me forget," he said, and took her meows as a promise.

He cracked open the other can, taking a long drink of room-temperature beer and grimacing a little. Watching her lap water out of a dish was depressing enough he'd drink warm beer if that was his only option; he was thankful when the microwave beeped and he could escape the kitchen, let her eat her cat food in peace.

  


Nothing on the television but a baseball game with two teams he couldn't care less about, and that suited him fine. Settled in with his leftover pizza and his barely-drinkable beer, he considered wallowing for about as long as it took Audrey to pad in and jump up onto the sofa.

"You know you're lying on the remote, right?" She looked up at him unblinkingly, holding his gaze for long enough to make her point before turning to watch the game. Her eyes flicked back and forth constantly; he felt like he was watching an alien.

"Lady's choice then," he muttered, before he started on his pizza. It wasn't that bad.

  


"Are you trying to steal my breath?" he murmured. "I've heard cats do that, you know."

She'd been slowly inching her way towards him all night, and now she was finally on top of him. Obvious attempts at subtlety were standard cat procedure as far as he could tell. It freaked him out a little -- he couldn't get past the fact that Audrey was still in there somewhere, buried under all that fur and cuddliness. He didn't remember her ever being like this before, and it just drove home how _wrong_ the whole situation was. He thought about Don Brubaker, newly-minted vegetarian after just two weeks as a giraffe. Audrey'd been a cat for longer than that. What if she changed too? What if she didn't change _back_?

She snuggled closer, close enough that the tip of her tail just brushed his cheek as she wrapped it around herself. He ran a hand down her back, slow and careful, watched her rise and fall with his breathing.

Nathan stared past her, half-heartedly watching the game. The whole situation felt lived-in, too mundane for him to ignore. He couldn't help imagining that this _was_ normal -- that he was one of those single guys who worked long shifts and came home to his cat and his perpetual leftovers. He wondered how he would've ended up with a cat in the first place, started flipping through different scenarios in his head, trying to see which one fit best. Adopted? Found wandering or abandoned in a sack somewhere like in the ASPCA ads with the sad music? No, not likely. Bought her? A friend of a friend of a friend or an ad in the newspaper? A pack of kids sitting outside the library with a box full of kittens, and she was the smallest or the squirmiest in the litter? No. None of them seemed right.

Showed up, then. Just appeared out of nowhere and made a space for herself in his life, and now they were lying on the couch watching the game together like they always did, and he really should buy pet insurance because what if something happened? He couldn't imagine her not being there, not seeing her every day.

"I miss you," he whispered, hand skating down her back slowly. "I miss my partner." He blamed her steady rumbling purr and the ridiculous warmth of her for putting him to sleep.

  


  


Nathan woke up confused, feeling like he'd forgotten something. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and he stared up at the ceiling, a vague emptiness in him. _Something_ had woken him up.

He pushed the blanket aside, sat up and stretched as he looked around. The television was off -- he must have hit the remote before he sacked out on the couch. He padded into the kitchen, covered a yawn as he eyed the coffee maker blearily until it finally started to click and burble. Being awake before there was coffee available was not his ideal state, and he shuffled off upstairs, keeping an eye out for Audrey. He'd come back downstairs when there was coffee.

A quick bathroom stop, and he took the opportunity to check the swelling -- a shiner alright, slightly more colourful than he'd expected, but then he hadn't remembered to ice it after eating.

"Hm. Maybe that was it," he pondered out loud. If he listened hopefully for an answering meow he wouldn't admit to it. He gave his face one last poke and hit the switch, left the bathroom intent on another half-hour in bed.

It was dark, and he was still tired, and none of that was reason enough for Nathan, for how he managed to get so far into the room before he noticed Audrey lying in his bed. Audrey, real Audrey, _human_ Audrey, and he came to a complete stop at the sight of her touselled blonde head on his pillow. He stopped _breathing_.

She was snoring a little, and shifted over in her sleep. She was human, she wasn't a cat anymore, and Nathan must have made the sort of sound he'd typically deny ever making because suddenly she was awake, and not at all like a cat.

"Nathan?"

He closed his mouth. Opened it, closed it again. "I."

She sat up; she was wearing one of his t-shirts. The ugly dark green one. She looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"I left the beer in the freezer," he said, eyes wide. He clapped a hand over his mouth as his brain clicked over like a slow-starting engine, as she stared at him for a moment. Then she started to laugh, mostly at him. It was the best thing he'd ever heard.

"Good morning to you too," she said, smirking. He couldn't stop looking at her; her hair really was a mess. 

"Good morning," he replied. He did not say, "I'm glad you're not a cat anymore," although he would later on when she helped him clean the beer out of his freezer.

  


  


THE END


End file.
